Lowlands Away
by RedrumSprinkles
Summary: Jaune sets sail once more, hounded by dreams and memories. A one-shot written for r/RWBY's monthly fanfiction contest.


**Lowlands Away**

* * *

She was waiting for him. The old forty-footer _SS_ _Archangel_ rocked gently in the harbor, where the crowing gulls kept it company. Blue and frothing white waves pushed against it, straining its ties to the rough wooden dock. Age had worn her pristine white paint the color of sour milk, but she still looked as magnificent as the day Jaune first laid eyes on her.

"You sure about this, dad?"

"Absolutely. I'll be fine."

"It's no secret you don't do well on boats." Jaune brushed his grey-blond hair behind his ears, chuckling as he did so.

"Making fun of your old man." He sighed. "This is what I get for all the hard work I put into raising you."

"Well, you also get this." His son handed him a six-pack, sweating in the sweltering heat of summer. He accepted it gracefully, beaming. Checking the label, it was indeed his favorite, a wheat ale from Mistral.

"Thanks, kid. Now get along. Tell your sister I'll be fine." Green eyes looked him over, parsing him warmly.

"And what would I tell mom, letting you go off like this?" Jaune smiled.

"Anything you like."

With a short hop, he was at the mercy of the sea again… well, not quite. _Archangel_ remained tied to port with a knot of solid rope. Heading below deck, he found a nest of rats had moved in since his last visit. A few shouts and aura pulses sent them scattering, dashing over the ropes and onto shore. _Filthy little bastards_.

Flicking on the light switch at the front of the cabin, the generator and power seemed to be in working order. At least the rodents hadn't chewed the power lines away. He put his son's gift in the refrigerator, grimacing as he stooped low. _My back isn't what it used to be_.

An hour of work, and the cabin was clean again. Dusting his hands off, Jaune appraised his work, pleased. It was a livable space once more. Ascending to the deck, he took in the sights and smells of the ocean. Salt wind caressed him, the scent familiar and cleansing. The water was a bright, crisp blue, one that matched his eyes.

"And thusly, I'm off!" He cried with dramatic gusto, hacking at the tether with Crocea Mors. The rope split apart with ease, setting him adrift. But it felt hollow without the laugh such dramatics usually received. _Maybe it was a bad idea to go off alone_. Janue mused. He buried the thought.

Pulling at straps and buckles, he unfurled the main sail, which caught the wind and flapped open with the creaking of stale canvas. With a lurching pull, the _Archangel_ was away. Jaune almost lost his breakfast, but Pyrrha's training had done away with the worst of his motion sickness. He steeled himself for her sake, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat.

_Urgh_.

Despite his slight unease, it couldn't have been a finer day to set sail. The sky was bare of clouds, and the sun sat high in the sky, the two shattered moons a pale white against the clear blue. Tending to the ropes, Jaune familiarized himself with his old friend, muscle memory recalling every heave and knot. It had been almost five years since he'd been out at sea.

He went below deck to find her fishing poles intact, the line protected from hungry rats by rusting metal canisters. Digging through his knapsack, he baited the line with some bread he'd brought along.

Reaching into the fridge, he treated himself to the first of the six-pack, relishing the taste as the foam settled in his stomach. Slipping the pole into a metal holder, he spread out on the leather couches on the sun-bleached deck, sighing contentedly. The dock was fading, becoming more and more difficult to distinguish from the rest of the coast.

"Destination, Captain?" He asked, hoisting his drink to the sky. No answer. "Very well, Vale it is." It'd been years since he'd been back. Jaune grinned. _Maybe I'll even stop by Beacon_. The thought gave him a warm feeling, and he resolved to make the thought a reality. _It'll be good to see Blake again. Hope she isn't running the school into the ground_. He huffed.

"Not likely!" He said to no one in particular. His years at Beacon had been good ones, fraught with challenges though they were. _Friends, love, Grimm attacks, terrorists. And even some schooling_! He thought, chuckling.

The years there had made him strong. Pyrrha had made him strong. Now he was a man more than worthy of the Arc name. It seemed an eternity ago he'd cheated his way into the prestigious combat school. He laughed again. _What was I expecting to happen there?_ Whatever he'd dreamt up, the adventures he'd had surpassed them handily.

A spray of sea foam startled him from his thoughts, and nearly made him spit out his beer. _That's what I get for not paying attention!_

"Pyrrha's gonna have my head." He adjusted the lines, shifting the sails into the lee. _No need to go too fast_. It's not the destination that's important anyway. That's what she'd always said, at least.

The canvas rippled and flapped, metal rings clinking softly against the mast. An old, familiar sound. This is where he'd spent his honeymoon after all, sailing around Remnant with a big, stupid smile on his face, a golden ring around his finger, and Pyrrha Nikos in his arms.

That had been thirty years ago. _How the time flies_.

He was truly at sea now, subject to the churning waves and currents of the ocean. She'd taught him everything he needed to know, and now Jaune could bend the sea to his will with ease. Not even motion sickness could touch him, no matter what John said. _Snarky brat_.

A fish took his bait, bending the old rod steep towards the shifting blue surface of the sea. Reeling it in took almost an hour. Jaune took his time, patience and experience guiding his hand as he fought his catch. He took special care not to snap the line, as it would be another few days before he could get some more.

A Red Samos was at the end of his line. Pyrrha's favorite. Jaune sighed. _I guess it's a sign_. Its tired fins pumped uselessly in the air, gills open and gasping. Working with a deft hand, he cut it open, cleaning the fish with the pocketknife little Julia had given him for his birthday a few years back. Gulls swooped low, matching the speed of the _Archangel_. They sung their shrill song, drawing even more of their brethren near.

"Rats with wings!" He bellowed at them. They cawed back, careless of his futile protests. Admitting defeat, he threw the guts into the ocean, where most of the birds swooped low to catch the opportune feast. He carried the eatable portion of his catch below deck, storing it on ice for later.

Sliding his arms under the safety rails, Jaune cleansed his hands and arms in the ocean. _Not bad, for my first time back in years._ He sat down once more, sipping at his warming beer. The remaining gulls shrieked at him, angry with Jaune for denying them their easy meal.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya." Pyrrha had thrown them bread, laughing as the wind whipped her beautiful crimson hair across her face, beaming at Jaune with a radiant smile. "You'll get no such sympathy from me." He told the birds, who ignored him.

He yawned. Sleep had not stayed with him long last night. It never did anymore. As the sun worked its way westward, he relished the feeling sailing gave him. When it finally sank below the horizon, he decided to cook his catch.

Frying the fish on the rusting stove, his dinner sizzled and snapped, filling the cabin with a rich, familiar scent. He ate alone, with the second beer from the six-pack. _Better ration them_. Jaune thought, chewing thoughtfully. _Oh well_. Having one with the Red Samos felt… _right_.

Stopping for the night, Jaune climbed into bed, covering himself with old, moth-eaten sheets. The boat rocked gently, carrying him into a fitful sleep.

Blood. All he ever dreamed of was red, red blood. Red blood and redder hair.

Bolting awake not three hours later, sweat poured down his face, thick and cloying. He wiped it away, panting and gasping. Hurling the sheets away, he rolled out of bed. They still smelled like her, and it drove him mad. Bare feet bore him aloft.

The moons were full, lighting the waves around him in their pure pale gaze. Tears rolled down his face, salt rivers that the wind swept away into the ocean. His mind made, he unfurled the sails once more. Taking a deep, reeling sob, he filled his lungs with ocean air.

"I dreamed a dream, the other night." It was his favorite song, an old sailing shanty Pyrrha had taught him all those years ago. The words rang true to him, lyrics pulling at him and rending his sleep into short spurts of grief.

"Lowlands! Lowlands awaaayyy, me Jaune!" Old muscles heaved at the ropes, unfurling the sails once more. "My love she came, dressed all in white." They'd buried her in white, but she'd died in her armor, befitting a warrior of her stature. "Lowlands awaaayy." Befitting his wife.

"I dreamed my love came in my sleep." It was the only time he could see her anymore, the only time he could hold her, kiss her, tell her how much he loved and missed her laugh and smile. He wiped at the tears, but they wouldn't go away. They ran even faster down his face, soaking the silver bristles that lined his chin.

"Lowlands, lowlands awaaayyy, me Jaune." Waves crashed against their boat, lapping against the sides of the _Archangel_. "Her cheeks were wet, her eyes did weep." The dream last night had been vivid beyond imagination, a sailing dream. The dream had pulled him from his home, brought him down to set sail once more.

"Lowlands awaaaayyy." He'd held her and kissed her, weeping just as he did now. 'Why did you leave me? I missed you so much! The children missed you!' She'd laughed, taking his face in her hands. 'I'm right here, Jaune! I haven't gone anywhere!'

"She came to me, at my bedside." She'd lied then, in the dream. She left a long time ago, and nothing would take her place. A gaping black hole now crouched in Jaune's heart, a wide, empty pit where despair vomited forth every time he thought about her, every time he remembered her. Everything about this journey ripped his grief open anew. The Red Samos. The beer had been her favorite too. Reminded her of home.

"Lowlands! Lowlands away, me Jaune." The wind whipped at the sails, and he picked up speed. Still working the ropes, Jaune continued his song in a warbling, grief-choked voice.

"All dressed in whiiiite, like some fair bride." They'd spent three months sailing around Remnant, just weeks after their wedding. All of their friends from Beacon had been there. The living ones, at least. "Lowlands away."

"And bravely in her bosom fair." Those three months had been the best of their lives. Pyrrha had taught him so much about the sea and sailing. Every day they'd awoken in each other's arms, some new lesson or knot ready for him to learn. "Lowlands! Lowlands away, me Jaune." They'd spent each night drowning in each other's company, eyes brightly focused on the day ahead.

"A red, red rose, my love did wear!" The red rose he put on her grave, just like in the song she'd taught him, every year without fail. "Lowlands away. She made no sound, no words she said." Time had made the burden no less easier to bear. "Lowlands! Lowlands awaaayy, me Jaune." He wept now, tears mixing with the sea spray as it splashed over the railing. He tied the last knots, setting the sail steady for the next few hours. "And then I knew, my love was dead." A deep sigh, choked with loss. It felt good to be on the sea again, but it wasn't the same without her. It never would be again.

"Lowlands away."

The wind died away, and for a second, the only sound that echoed across the waves was the sobs of an old man lost in his grief.

* * *

**A/N: A good deal different than my usual fare, but I wanted to try something new. The song is real, "Lowlands Away" was an actual sea shanty about a sailor who dreams of his lost love. A very sad song, and I recommend you listen to it after reading.**

**Thanks for giving it a read, and vote for me in the contest!**

**Later!**

**~RedrumSprinkles**


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